Mgh in Bloom

By Doris M. Dorwart

MGH in Bloom, a sequel to Morning Glory Hill, demonstrates how people, regardless of their age, can grow and develop into a loving, caring family in an independent living facility for senior citizens. The humanity of the characters blooms with their friendship in funny, dramatic ways and pulls at the heartstrings. While two characters are busy trying to solve their own little mysteries, their lives intertwine in the most delightful ways. Romance, quiet and unassuming, is alive and well. A surprising hero emerges and exemplifies that love comes in many forms. While the characters are elderly, their hearts and spirits are as young as ever. Just like the morning glories that bloom outside their residence, they come in different colors and sizes. But when theyre planted together, they bloom just as gloriously.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524696009

Doris M. Dorwart

Doris M. Dorwart, Ed.D. resides in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Doris served as Director of the School Library Media Services Division for the Pennsylvania Department of Education for a period of ten years. Prior to her retirement, she served as Director for the Online Masters Program in School Library and Information Technology for Mansfield University, Mansfield Pennsylvania.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

H ortense King Ferndale was in her office at Morning Glory Hill, an elegant, independent living residency, waiting for two women, who had made an appointment to view the facility. She was proud of the new name plate appropriately displayed on an ornate walnut desk in her well-appointed office. While she had been serving as the director of this relatively new facility for over a year and a half, she had only recently married and was still trying to get used to being called Mrs. Ferndale. She had been single so long that she had almost given up on marriage as an option for her. Then along came Claude and her world had not been the same since then.

A long time ago, Hortense realized she had to make the best of what she had. Her complexion was flawless—no thanks to any face creams or skin treatments—what people saw was what they got. Her eyebrows were naturally arched and helped to make her appear much younger than she really was. She had made up her mind when she had accepted her current position that although she would be surrounded by old people, she would not allow herself to look old. She followed fashion trends and would not be seen in anything out-of-style.

When she heard a car door slam, she turned and pushed the slats on the blind aside to get a look at the occupants. Her curiosity about the pair had been tweaked ever since their correspondence indicated, that while they were sisters, they did not want to live together nor did they want to reside in the same wing.

Well, this will be a new situation for me—that’s for sure, Hortense said to herself.

In a few moments, her office door opened and Mary Beth, the receptionist, ushered two elegantly-attired women into the room.

Welcome, Hortense said enthusiastically, I’m Hortense Ferndale. I’m so delighted to know you are interested in our facility.

The taller woman moved forward and extended her hand. Mrs. Ferndale, I am Julia LaPointe and this is my sister, Enid Murphy. By the way, are you by chance related to the Ferndales who are in the furniture business? My late husband and Otto Ferndale were close friends.

Hortense was taken aback. A question about her husband’s distant relatives, whom she detested, was certainly not one that she had anticipated. As she busied herself by gathering a few brochures for the sisters, she wrestled with herself about the most appropriate way to answer the question. Finally, she replied, They are relatives, but I seldom get to see them. Now, you may take these brochures along on the tour. Please feel free to refer to them as you see fit. I thought you would appreciate having them because they’ll help you get familiar with the various eating areas, shops, and other types of services you’ll have at your fingertips if you choose one of our apartments. Moving from behind her desk, Hortense said, Marty Miller, one of our most active residents, will be joining us for the tour. I have found most people who are interested in residing here enjoy talking with current residents.

That will be fine, Julia said as she leaned forward to pick up the brochures. "Enid and I have looked over the materials you mailed to us. We prefer not to take up residence in the same wing. We each like our own space. If you cannot meet this requirement, we have no interest in touring the facility."

Hortense glanced at her visitors. Both were tall and slender. She admired their taste in dress, and their hair styles represented the latest cuts. She judged Julia was probably a size four, while Enid was closer to an eight. Hortense sensed immediately that it would be Julia who would have to be convinced to become a resident—Enid simply smiled and nodded her head in agreement. The good news: I’m able to accommodate both of you. We have one available apartment on Daffodil Lane and another on Lilac Lane. They both have two bedrooms and large walk-in closets. We have a total of six lanes, each one named after a flower, for residents and two lanes to accommodate the restaurants, pools, and meeting rooms. You’ll see all of these wonderful places during our tour, Hortense assured the two women.

I have a question, Enid said almost in a whisper as she removed a pair of glasses from her leather purse. "I’m curious about the cafe called The Night Owl."

"You would ask that, Julia chided. You’re not interested in the important components, but you’re eager to learn about places to eat, Julia admonished. Your obsession with food is beginning to show itself on your hips."

Hortense blinked. Julia had just slammed her sister in an insensitive manner. Now Hortense began to doubt whether she could handle the sisters who apparently were not too fond of one another. Enid simply looked past her sister and began drumming her fingers on the table.

Will you stop that? Julia asked sharply.

Hortense had to take over the discussion. You’ll find everything here at Morning Glory Hill has been designed to create a safe environment for our residents. From Hannah’s Meditation Room, which is a serene sanctuary where residents spend time to unwind and focus on themselves and clear their minds, to the technical room where you will find the latest pieces of technology for your use, to the spa and swimming pool, are all areas where the needs of seniors have been addressed. But, ladies, our residents represent our most outstanding asset. The men and women who reside here have proven to be above reproach. You will find yourselves among people who will contribute to your sense of community and well-being.

I am impressed, Julia said. I hope what you say is true.

Hortense breathed a sigh of relief. After our tour, I have arranged for a small luncheon where you’ll meet several other residents.

Julia was the first to stand—indicating that she was ready to move on. Relieved that Marty Miller, a resident since the facility had opened, was waiting to join them, Hortense performed the necessary introductions. Marty not only serves as the mayor of Lilac Lane, but the apartment next to hers is available.

As they moved down the hallway, Hortense became aware of Julia’s unusual walk. She almost chuckled when she realized Julia walked like a llama—head up, chin out a bit, and a look of disdain on her face. As soon as they entered the empty apartment, Julia began opening and closing almost every drawer and door. Enid, on the other hand, seemed to be interested only in the view from the large front window.

Tell me, Mrs. Miller, what do you like best about Morning Glory Hill? Enid asked almost shyly.

That’s a hard question to answer. I like everything here. While I certainly miss the beautiful home I had shared with my late husband, I am quite comfortable here. The many conveniences and various activities that we have are greatly appreciated by all of us. And, the fact that we have our own council, where we can meet to share our ideas and our concerns openly with one another, is a huge sense of comfort. We residents lovingly refer to our facility as MGH. And, please call me Marty.

Let’s go over to Daffodil Lane where we have a similar apartment available, Hortense suggested.

Just a minute, Julia said. Who was the person who lived here before and why did they leave? I’m particularly interested in whether or not that person had any communicable diseases.

Enid did not try to hide her disgust. Julia, what a ridiculous question.

Yes, you would think that, Julia chastised as she turned her back on her sister.

The woman who lived here was Jesse Yoder, a sweet, retired elementary teacher. She died of a massive heart attack. We miss her dearly. She had an adorable habit of banging her cane on the floor and rhyming at the end of every sentence that she spoke, Hortense explained lightheartedly.

Adorable? I would call such a habit infantile, Julia replied.

Julia, Enid murmured. You have no right to say such a nasty thing.

If the truth is nasty, so be it. Enid, just be quiet. Julia grumbled as she crossed her arms. Just to clear up any misconception about why we have decided to look at this place—we each have a son who works for Mainstream Building Supplies on an administrative level. They recommended your facility because they wanted to have us close by. I hope my acquiescence to their request turns out to our advantage.

Marty wanted to turn things around and decided that she would point out some of the features she felt represented the facility and its mission. "This is our lobby, but we affectionately refer to it as The Square. As you can see, the carpet has MGH emblazoned in the center. The furniture was created by Kendrick Harrison, award winning designer, and is laid out in such a manner as to encourage small groups to gather and socialize. The marble-topped table holding the hurricane lamp, as well as the occasional chair to the left are all items that belonged to our benefactors. Let me show you the sanctuary," Marty said as she opened the door to Hannah’s Meditation Room."

"Oh, this is relaxing, Julia purred. I love the water fountain. It’s so restful and quiet that I understand why it is considered a sanctuary. Who is Hannah?"

Hannah Smoker and her husband provided the financing necessary to build this facility. Mrs. Smoker was a gentle woman who realized all of us, from time to time, need a quiet place to go to allow ourselves to regenerate and get in touch with our own souls, Marty explained.

Am I right that there is no direct religious affiliation in this facility? Julia asked.

Hortense took a deep breath. While our founders were Mennonites, you are correct. We are proud to say that our residents represent many faiths. The Smokers were adamant that religion was a personal choice. Residency here is not dependent on where or how one worships. Let’s head over to Daffodil Lane.

When they entered the vacant apartment, Julia immediately asked, And who was the last tenant in this apartment?

Colonel Matthew Anderson, a rather distinguished gentleman, lived here for only a few months. He decided that he wanted to be closer to his old friends so he moved to California, Hortense explained.

Marty rolled her eyes.

"Mrs. Miller, you don’t agree with Mrs. Ferndale?’ Julia asked.

Not wanting to go into a lengthy explanation, Marty said, He was a bit disagreeable. I hope that he’ll be happier in his new residence.

Hortense felt as if this day would never end. As they entered the dining room, she was relieved to hear laughter and chatter among the guests. Perhaps, just perhaps, Julia wouldn’t insult anyone else. William Williams and Frank Snyder immediately stood and pulled out chairs for the sisters. Frank, a retired dairy farmer, towered over William as he guided Julia to her seat. Rosebud McClaren, a diminutive attractive woman, and Celeste Mayfair, a chubby, curly-headed woman, welcomed the visitors warmly. In no time at all lively upbeat conversations filled the air.

I’m curious, Julia said. Mr. Williams, Hortense mentioned you play the piano. What is your favorite genre?

Please, call me William. While my favorite is country-western, I play all types of music, William explained.

Wait until you hear William and Abigail Becker, Rosebud said eagerly. She then proceeded to tell the newcomers all about the talents of this couple and how the two of them entertain the residents quite frequently.

It sounds like this is a very active place, Julia said. While I much prefer classical music, I guess I can get used to the twang-twang of country. Celeste, are you a certified librarian?

Unfortunately, no. But I do my best. If there’s a book you’re interested in, just complete a request form and I’ll try to accommodate you. You’ll find the forms in any of the book nooks, Celeste explained.

You may want to consider taking some courses at the local university. You may just find them beneficial. Julia sniffed.

Celeste was mortified. She wanted to lash out at the self-centered Julia, but she bit her lip and kept quiet.

A cone of silence fell over the once-happy diners. The residents exchanged looks with one another and shifted in their seats. The luncheon was over. One by one, they began standing and shaking hands with the prospective guests.

Julia made it known that she was interested in the apartment on Lilac Lane. Enid graciously accepted the one on Daffodil Lane. Now it was Marty’s time to feel nervous. This arrogant woman was going to be her neighbor and she had to get along with her. She jumped when Julia turned to her and said, My dear Marty—may I call you Marty? Then without waiting for an answer, she added, You are certainly welcome to come over to my residence anytime as long as you call first. Oh, another consideration—I have a car, Enid does not. Her son wisely took her driver’s license away from her some time ago, Julia said smugly.

Hortense was eager to bring this visit to an end. I’ll escort you ladies to your car, she offered as pleasantly as she could.

Marty and Frank watched as the sisters disappeared from view. Frank shook his head, leaned over to Marty and whispered, I guess Julia can get along very well without any friends at all.

CHAPTER 2

E nid had finally unwrapped her last teapot from the movers’ carton—all 32 teapots had arrived and, much to her relief, none had any signs of damage. Each little treasure resurrected memories of how it had landed in her collection. Of course, one special pot had been placed on the center shelf of her china closet. She fondly recalled the day her husband had given it to her—not in a brightly wrapped package, but in a little paper bag that the local five-and-dime had used for the gift he had purchased for their first anniversary. While most of the other pots were more elegantly designed, with some of them edged in gold, none of them were treasured more than this little Brown Betty with a tiny chip on it spout. Oh, how she had cried the day that she had bumped her precious gift against the faucet and had watched the little chip disappear down the drain.

Julia could never abide Enid’s love of teapots. She refused to acknowledge the significant role they played in society. Enid had tried to explain this to Julia more than once. Enid loved the charm created by the use of teapots—an symbol of genteel times that nowadays seems to have been forgotten. But, then again, she realized Julia had never found anything she truly treasured.

When her mantel clock struck midnight, she realized she was hungry. Then, she recalled The Night Owl. She hurried over to her desk and retrieved the packet of brochures Hortense had given her two weeks ago. She wondered if anyone would really be there. As a little smile crept over her face, with the feeling like she was somehow breaking the rules, she adjusted the sash of her bathrobe securely around her waist, took a quick look at herself in her hallway mirror, pulled a few locks of hair over her forehead to try to cover a wrinkle or two, and headed out the door.

As she entered The Square, she almost changed her mind when she didn’t see anyone. Suddenly, she became aware of a lamppost with a little, neon owl perched on the top at the entrance to Violet Lane. Well, even if she had to sit by herself, she was determined to complete her little venture.